


what lies ahead

by TripsH



Series: Post-Timeskip Iwaoi [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Post-Time Skip, Talking About The Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25796695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TripsH/pseuds/TripsH
Summary: “So then do it,” Iwaizumi says, and reaches up, cradles Oikawa’s cheeks in is hands, a touch that may seem much too gentle for the forceful line drawn in the sand of choosing one country over another. “Do it and don’t look back or worry about what anyone else thinks.”
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Series: Post-Timeskip Iwaoi [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862326
Comments: 20
Kudos: 184





	what lies ahead

**Author's Note:**

> When you try to write your long fic you’ve been working on for a few months and end up with another oneshot instead: a story of my life lately! 
> 
> Time skip iwaoi thoughts and headcanons truly will not leave me, so I continually keep rolling with it while the inspiration is there for me and adding to this series. I have a million emotions about these two and Oikawa in Argentina that won’t let me be free. This is partially inspired because in the last fic I wrote, I had a line referencing these two talking about Oikawa deciding to get citizenship in Argentina, so I started thinking more this week about how that conversation might go. I also had a mini crisis earlier in the week thinking about the seijou extra chapter in volume 17 with iwaizumi telling oikawa “do it, though and don’t look back” with the knowledge we now have of where Oikawa went in canon and that really hecked me up in the best of ways sooo it's unsurprising this story happened to me 
> 
> I also just genuinely enjoy writing soft, quiet and intimate moments and these two being supportive of each other and communication in general so. I hope you enjoy this soft iwaoi :')

“You gonna tell me what’s been bothering you?” Iwaizumi asks when Oikawa sits down cross-legged across from him on the bed a little while after they’ve arrived back at Oikawa’s apartment after his game earlier in the evening.

“What makes you think something’s been bothering me, Iwa-chan?”

Even if he plays innocent, Oikawa’s always known that Iwaizumi can see through that. That he knows there’s been something Oikawa’s been avoiding saying recently, dancing around it any time they’ve spoken on the phone or video called. That’s mostly been in favor of talking about a big, life changing topic in person, though. So Oikawa has waited to even address it until the next time Iwaizumi visited him, which hadn’t been that long of a wait, thankfully. 

Iwaizumi shrugs, because he also knows when to push and when to let Oikawa come to something on his own. They’ve _both_ perfected that skill after a lifetime of friendship.

So Oikawa continues, grin on his lips, a nervous sort of ramble to fill the air, “I am a little sore from the match earlier, though. If you want to give me a shoulder massage, I would not be opposed.” It might make him a little braver, too. Iwaizumi’s hands on him, touching him.

“Yeah, ‘course I can.” Iwaizumi reaches over from where he sits across from Oikawa, takes both of his hands in his instead, silent for a moment before he says, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

He nods. Of course he knows that. He’s shown Iwaizumi the deepest parts of himself, every piece of him. And it’s not that he’s suddenly all about keeping secrets or anxious to talk about the future with him, but something about this in particular is a little scary, like speaking it aloud makes it an unbreakable thing they can’t go back from. Until now it’s just been a thought, something Oikawa’s been considering, but once he talks about it, that makes it real.

But maybe this is the best time to do just that: with the two of them, at nearly midnight, sitting face to face on Oikawa’s bed, alone in the quiet of his apartment.

Part of him thinks that he’s been waiting for this. Iwaizumi’s touch has always made him braver, a little more honest than he is with words. He and Iwaizumi may have only started dating within the past few years, but they’ve been touching each other like a couple might for much longer. Since they were teenagers, really.

He thinks maybe touch has _always_ given them away before words have. The hesitant, lingering touches before they started dating always spoke a lot louder than the words they would and wouldn’t say. There’s something honest about their hands on each other, raw and real. Maybe it’s because he’s grown up knowing these hands and all they’ve ever given him—the same fingers that brushed his tears away as a kid, that held his hand when he was scared, that curled in his jersey for years and years they were on the same team all do the same and more now, years in the future.

“There is something I want to talk about, actually,” he finally says.

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi refrains from judgement, on commenting or gesturing that he already knew that, only rubs his thumbs over the backs of Oikawa’s hands in encouragement to go on. “What is it?”

“Well… I’ve been thinking about getting citizenship here in Argentina,” he finally says, eyes on their connected hands sitting between their laps, Iwaizumi’s careful ministrations.

If Iwaizumi were anyone else, his touch, his motions might falter, might break away. But he doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t even hesitate, his touch still steady and supportive without a doubt in sight.

“It… it came up in a conversation with my coach recently,” Oikawa continues. “If I want to keep moving forward here, that would be the next step. I’ve been thinking it all through.”

Iwaizumi nods, and when Oikawa looks at his face, he’s smiling. “So what are you thinking?” 

The nonchalance surprises him a little. It’s almost like he hasn’t dropped a huge, life changing decision on Iwaizumi and instead is talking about something as simple and casual as what they should have for dinner. “You’re not surprised, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head, laughing a little. “I think I’ve known this is something you’ve wanted and that’s been on the table for a while now. I’m kind of surprised you’re only bringing it up for the first time now.”

“Really?” He’d wanted to bring this up at the right time for them because they’re a couple, committed to each other, and it’s not just a decision he should make for himself first and talk about later, especially since it’ll impact both of them. Oikawa doesn’t want to think it’d be a dealbreaker between them, but it _could_ be so—

Iwaizumi nods. “I wish you could see yourself when you play. It reminds me of when we were kids and you lit up every time you touched the ball. Or if you could see yourself every time we talk. You glow. I know it hasn’t always been easy for you here, but I can tell how happy you are. You seem so settled and comfortable.”

And yeah, he is. He is happy. He is comfortable now that he’s settled himself here, and he’s looking forward to what’s ahead. But whenever he has thought about this decision he needs to make, something nags at him. It’s not a simple, impulsive choice to be made, but something he’s thought a lot about, carefully considered because there’s no going back once he’s committed.

In teetering between two different decisions, Oikawa's thought of what moving forward in Argentina means. Renouncing his Japanese citizenship in favor of living in and representing another country. He can imagine the reactions—strangers saying he’s a traitor for making what should be only a temporary detour his permanent place; those who don’t really know him or his motivations saying he’s petty, too prideful to think clearly; people thinking he ran away instead of standing his ground and fighting for his place as a player in Japan.

“Am I stupid for even considering it?” He doesn’t know why he’s asking. Is he wanting someone to talk him down from it, to look at him standing on the edge of a cliff, about to take a huge leap, and tell him not to do it? To tell him to choose the safer option instead? _Come back, come back, come back._

But he doesn’t want to come back. He wants to forge ahead. He wants to jump. _He wants to fly._

For once it feels like he’s standing at the front, not chasing after someone’s back, like maybe _his_ back is the one someone should be chasing after. It feels like the sun beaming down on him, his fingertips about to brush the sky if he takes just one more step forward, the blue of Argentina’s national team’s jersey his to claim—his future, his life, his accomplishment.

Adulthood’s about finding yourself and he thinks he’s found that—himself, happiness, a place he belongs—here in Argentina. With this team and this city and the possibilities that lie ahead for him, something even bigger.

But there’s a piece of Oikawa who sits right in front of him, holding his hands. And life may be easier for the two of them if he chooses something different for himself, but—

“You’re not stupid,” Iwaizumi says, squeezing his hands. “You’re braver than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Am I?”

“You are,” Iwaizumi insists. “You’re amazing. And you deserve this more than anyone.”

Long ago, he might have asked _“do I?”_ , and that question may have been accompanied with a self-deprecating laugh, doubts that it’s true. But that’d been back when he’d been caught up in everything he’d ever been insecure about—his skills, his future, his worth. Things have changed since then. They’ve changed a lot. But he’s always trusted Iwaizumi and what Iwaizumi tells him. Maybe it’d been stupid to think Iwaizumi would talk him down from making this choice, to think he might encourage him to do anything but move forward.

“Can I ask you something?”

Oikawa nods at Iwaizumi’s question.

“You can only answer for you. I don’t want you to think about anyone else when you answer this. Just how you feel, okay?”

“Okay. I will.”

Iwaizumi seems satisfied with his agreement to the condition, so he squeezes Oikawa’s hands, asks, “Are you happy here?”

He nods, not even having to think about it. He is. He really is. Going into this all when he was only eighteen years old, Oikawa really had no idea what to expect—unsure of if he’d get used to a whole new life here, if he’d always feel out of place like he had in the early days of this, if this really is the path he’s meant to be on.

But while every moment of his few years in Argentina hasn’t always been easy or fun, he really does love it here. And he is happy with all of it.

“And do you want to stay here?” Iwaizumi asks. “Do you want this?”

He’s made a whole life here the past few years. His teammates have become like a second family, accepted him and took him under their wing. He’s gotten where he is through hard work and practice and taking a leap like this. And that’s not to say he couldn’t do the same if he went back to Japan, couldn’t make it work for him there too—he knows he could. But there’s something to be said for wanting more, wanting to represent Argentina, to wear their jersey on his back going forward. How this has become the place he sees himself.

“Yes,” Oikawa finally answers, voice low, quiet. This _is_ what he wants for himself. “I do.”

“So then do it,” Iwaizumi says, and reaches up, cradles Oikawa’s cheeks in is hands, a touch that may seem much too gentle for the forceful line drawn in the sand of choosing one country over another. “Do it and don’t look back or worry about what anyone else thinks.”

It’s an encouragement, a blessing for Oikawa to go through with making a huge life decision. It’s the support he’s wanted among what others might admonish him for, but—

He thinks back to dating around a bit in high school—if you could even really call it that—every dalliance with a relationship short-lived, a gasp of air, stilted and quick. There’d been one time he’d had a girlfriend who lasted more than a week only to have her break up with him not long after that because he was too focused on volleyball instead of being in a relationship.

That past feels so different from this, from everything he’s always had with Iwaizumi. A love he put concrete words to in junior high, but that has always been in his heart. Something he hadn’t acted on for years, until well past junior high and high school, miles away from Iwaizumi when they did admit it aloud and decide to move forward together. Something that’s bloomed just as brightly when they’ve been apart as it would have if they initiated this back when they were constantly in each other’s presence.

And even though Iwaizumi sits here, telling him he’s not surprised about what Oikawa wants to do and to move forward, he can’t help but worry that he’s asking for too much. That he doesn’t deserve to tangle his hand with Iwaizumi’s—a step ahead as he drags him through the muddled murkiness of a long-distance relationship, the unknown lengths of time they’ll have to continue to spend apart. There’s uncertainty in this life, even if it’s spent with someone Oikawa’s always been certain with.

“Does it bother you?” he finally whispers, the insecurity slipping out before he can stop it. Part of him doesn’t mean to say it, but there’s part of him relieved to get it out there too so it doesn’t sit inside him, a fear bottled up, never to be spoken. It’s different than years back worrying that it’s not fair to drag the other through a long-distance relationship because back then, even if Oikawa had an inkling of an idea that he’d wanted to play on Argentina’s national team in the future, it was a reality they hadn’t encountered yet. Now it’s here. It’s real and in reach, and maybe they need to talk about _this_ too—open and honest communication.

Iwaizumi frowns. “Does what bother me?”

“That I can’t ever give you a normal future. Especially if—”

“When has anything we’ve done ever been normal, Tooru?”

“But shouldn’t it be?” Tears burn behind his eyes now as he thinks about it, emotion overcoming him. “Shouldn’t you want that? Someone who can live with you and love you in one place instead of me in another country?”

Their relationship isn’t typical by any normal standards. Not like his teammates, his friends, who have significant others, families, they can come home to every night, who they have at their team’s games to cheer them on and greet them after. Sometimes, he’s wanted to slip away in these moments because he feels left out, like he’s intruding, but at least one of his teammates will draw him back into the fray, making him temporarily forget the people he has supporting him are miles away instead of right in front of him.

Sometimes, if he’s had a long or rough day, all he wants to do is come home to his apartment and flop into bed with the desire for Iwaizumi to be there too, touching him. But the only touch he can settle for in those moments is a press of his finger against his phone screen to initiate a call to the person he wants to see most, who he has to countdown on a calendar to see again, sometimes for months before they actually can have that.

He’s never doubted they could do this, but distance isn’t always easy. It can be a painful ache that sometimes seems untreatable, like it’ll never really go away—even if they’ve made it work so well both when they were just friends and now that they’re a couple. It’s _hard_ sometimes, even if this is what they both want. And is it fair to ask to continue that, even if he wants this between them forever, even if they’d always said they’ll make it work?

“I want _you_ ,” Iwaizumi says, certain and fierce and determined. “I love _you_. I don’t care what’s normal and what’s not.”

“Hajime… I don’t want you to give anything up for me and what I want. I’m—”

“I’m not giving anything up, and I wouldn’t want you to give up anything for me either. You eventually coming back to Japan when your dream is here would be giving something up.”

“Iwa-chan…” He’s right. Oikawa knows he’s right. The more he’s thought about the choice he has, even in the last few moments together, it doesn’t feel right for him to go back. To leave Argentina for that.

“Tooru, listen. I don’t care how long it takes. If we were still doing it like this when we’re fucking eighty, it wouldn’t matter to me. I’m in this with you for the whole thing, no matter where that takes us. You getting citizenship here isn’t going to make me want to throw away our whole lives together. I’d never make you choose between your future and me.”

Maybe he doesn’t have to worry about looking behind him, about wanting to turn back instead of moving forward because his person who means absolutely everything to him is right beside him and always has been.

He shouldn’t be surprised, and well, really, he’s not, even if he had been nervous about this topic. Iwaizumi’s the same as he was years ago, back in Miyagi, another instance when they sat facing each other like this, hearts bared as they talked about the future. He’d squeezed Oikawa’s hands, then, grin on his lips when Oikawa said he planned to go play in Argentina and said, “Hey, the time difference between Argentina and California is way less than Japan and California.” And it’d made Oikawa laugh, made him smile so much he forgot he’d even been worried about what going in such different directions might do to their friendship.

They’ve grown so much since then, but they’re still fundamentally the same. Still love each other just as unconditionally as they always have. Even more so now that they’re in a relationship instead of just friends. 

“Hey, hey.” Iwaizumi leans forward, closer to him even though they already sit so close. “Please don’t cry. Tooru…”

He hadn’t realized he was crying, that the tears he’d tried to hold back slip down his cheeks. “I’m not crying because I’m sad. It’s just… that’s so romantic, Hajime.” He sniffles, wants to rub his free hand over his eyes, to push his tears away, to stop more from falling forward, but Iwaizumi’s hands are already resting on his cheeks doing just that, thumbs brushing away his tears. “You’re gonna be with me when I’m eighty.”

“Well, yeah. I’ve already been with you my whole life so far. Might as well make good on the rest of it too.” A while ago, talking about this so casually may have embarrassed the two of them. Oikawa can picture Iwaizumi’s red cheeks or the way he might have spluttered out an answer or punched him in the shoulder. But now, all he sees is Iwaizumi’s smile and certain answer and his hands cradling Oikawa’s cheeks.

He wonders when they grew into that—a couple who may not come home to each other every night, but who can talk about staying together the rest of their lives like it’s a foregone conclusion, a statement of fact that’s not left up to chance.

When he dives forward, throwing his arms around Iwaizumi and tackling him back onto the bed, it’s because he’s overflowing with happiness and love, something he feels with his whole damn heart and doesn’t ever want to contain.

“Some warning before you jump on me would be nice next time,” Iwaizumi says, head pressed against Oikawa’s pillow as they settle into a position more comfortable—something that’s not a clash of their elbows and knees and a tangle of limbs—Oikawa lying on top of him, Iwaizumi’s hand resting on his lower back, sliding under his shirt. “Imagine if you had knocked us off the bed.”

“I’m gonna make you proud.” Oikawa knows he probably looks a mess after crying, remnants of tears still on his face, but the way Iwaizumi still looks at him, filled with love, like he’s the most beautiful thing in the universe makes his heart jump to his throat, like someone’s knocked the breath out of him. He doesn’t ever want to lose this, he thinks, as he cards a hand through Iwaizumi’s hair.

“You already do.” Iwaizumi tugs on Oikawa's shirt sleeve, draws him forward. Oikawa meets him halfway in a kiss. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“A few years from now you’ll be kissing an Olympic gold medalist, Iwa-chan,” he says when they break the kiss, but press their foreheads together, and smiles as he feels Iwaizumi’s nails scratch against his lower back as he rubs his hand against Oikawa’s skin.

“Yeah, Tooru.” It’s not a teasing question, a step into bantering with each other like Oikawa had intended for the comment to be an opening to. Instead, it’s just an answer filled with certainty, like Iwaizumi knows that’s what will happen, as sure as he’s breathing. “I can’t wait.” 


End file.
